The Royalmaiden's War
by ArneiaScarlett
Summary: Arnuriel has survived the War of the Ring so far but the real test is yet to begin. She will have to leave friends behind, and make new allies if the war of Minas Tirith is to be a success, and the question of whether Arnuriel herself will survive is yet to be answered. Legolas/OC
1. Double Death

**Arnuríel is back! For the final installment of Lord of the Rings, The Royalmaiden's War! Enjoy and review ^_^**

**Neia xxx**

* * *

I am north, I am north

Read the report

Once again I am yours

More than i can afford

Alchemy works its way

Begging, begging for mercy

Working magic,

Pretend to bring in the end with disappointment

So steal me from regular arms and

Steal me into the dark

- 'Alchemy', KT Tunstall

* * *

5 March 3019

Alrohar picked his way carefully through the woods, delicately choosing where to place each hoof. We were trekking through Fangorn, taking a detour from the rest of Théoden's army. They were taking a straighter route, led by Éowyn, from Helm's Deep back to Edoras. But we were cutting back to Isenguard. A short column of riders picking our way under the strangely silent trees to the black tower.

Alrohar trotted neatly behind Brego, Arod following us with Legolas and Gimli. There was a strange chill in the air as I gazed around warily. Something felt uneasy here. "Tulunka, Alrohar..." Steady, Alrohar...

We began to come to a break in the trees, as they opened out and I caught sight of rubble ahead, fallen walls. And a familiar sound. The laughing of a peredhil... A hobbit.

"Ahaha!" Pippin cried out in delight, saluting our approach with a mug in his hand. He was perched happily upon the rubble, a pipe in his other hand, while Merry lounged beside him, also smoking and drinking.

I half laughed in disbelieving relief. They were safe... So safe they were smoking and drinking.

"Welcome, my lords, to Isengard!" Merry greeted proudly, standing up, somewhat swaying a little. "And ladies of course, Lady Riel, always a pleasure!"

This time I laughed out loud, and shook my head. "Meriadoc Brandybuck... The pleasure is mine."

"You young rascals!" Gimli piped up in indignation from behind Legolas. "A merry hunt you've led us on and now we find you feasting and... and smoking!"

Pippin's reply was slightly slurred with drink, as he chewed on a meaty sandwich. "We are sitting, on a field of victory enjoying a few well earned comforts." Merry agreed with a puff of his pipe. "The salted pork is particularly good!"

"Salted pork?" Gimli grunted.

"Hobbits..." Gandalf muttered, but I smiled. There was a tone of fondness in his voice, I knew as well as any how he really felt about the peredhil no matter how he may pretend.

"We're under orders from Treebeard who's taken over management of Isengard," Merry explained.

"Where is he, Meriadoc?" Gandalf asked.

"Um... somewhere... over there, I believe," Pippin replied, waving vaguely behind him.

I shook my head in fond disbelief again, and exchanged a glance with Legolas. He grinned back at me.

"Well come on down from there, the pair of you," Aragorn cut in. Pippin jumped down from the wall and then stood, frowning from horse to horse in front of him. As though deciding who to choose to ride upon. I'd have offered myself but I knew how picky Alrohar was about those who mounted him.

"Come on Pippin," Aragorn offered eventually, and hauled Pippin easily onto Brego's back behind him. Merry followed, and Éomer instantly moved his mount forward. "Ride with me, little master."

"Why thankee my lord," Merry grinned up, and was easily lifted up behind him.

"Hobbits..." Gandalf repeated and nudged Shadowfax forward. Alrohar knew to follow him and did so, trotting lightly forward. Then he suddenly stopped, and snorted. I frowned at him, then rolled my eyes.

The ground fell away a good foot into a trench stretching away in front of his. The trench was filled with water, which would reach up to Alrohar's knees. Alrohar was incredibly proud and he did not appreciate trekking through dirty water if he could help it.

"Alrohar..." I murmured softly, attempting to encourage him forward. "Tula..." Come...

"Ah, for goodness' sake, Riel, move your stupid horse's ass!" Gimli grunted. I glanced around at him and Alrohar spun his head around with another snort.

"Come on now Alrohar, it's nothing you haven't done before," I went on, turning back to the ditch and nudging him with my heels. Alrohar snorted a third time, his head raised high in the air with his ears laid pack... but he stepped delicately forward with a distasteful shake of his mane and followed Brego and Shadowax forward towards the black tower. Where I could already see a great tree ent standing in front of the main steps that led inside the tower. Treebeard. I had never, in all my long years and his, met the shepherd of the trees but I knew of his reputation. Incredibly old, wise and tall.

"Hoooom," he moaned in that tree-like way the ents had. "Young master Gandalf, I'm glad you've come. Wood and water, stock and stone I can master but there is a Wizard to manage here locked in his tower."

"Show yourself..." Aragorn murmured softly. I gazed upward at the tip of the tower, my piercing elven eyes not even able to find Saruman. He was hiding.

"Be careful," Gandalf warned. "Even in defeat, Saruman is dangerous."

"Well then, let's just have his head and be done with it," Gimli grunted easily.

"No, we need him alive!" Gandalf cut across. "We need him to talk."

I suddenly noted a movement atop the tower. "Look..."

"You have fought many wars and slain many men, Théoden king, and made peace afterwards," Saruman announced in his strange, deep bass voice. "Can we not take counsel together as we once did, my old friend? Can we not have peace, you and I?"

My eyes narrowed, as Théoden's voice rose to a shouting reply. "We shall have peace…. We shall have peace when you answer for the burning of the Westfold and the children that lie dead there! We shall have peace when the lives of the soldiers whose bodies were hewn even as they lay dead against the gates of the Hornburg… are avenged! When you hang from a gibbet for the sport of your own crows… we shall have peace!"

"Gibbets and crows! Dotard!" Saruman retorted. "What do you want Gandalf Grahame? Let me guess… the key of Orthanc? Or perhaps the keys of Barad Dûr itself? Along with the crowns of the seven Kings and the rods of the Five Wizards!"

"Your treachery has already cost many lives," Gandalf replied. "Thousands more are now at risk. But you could save them Saruman. You were deep in the enemy's counsel."

"So you have come here for information," Saruman said, and my eyes narrowed further at the strange glint in his eye. I wanted to call it madness... "I have some for you." He suddenly held forward a strange ball, black, swirling golden mists within it. A palantir... a seeing stone! I had only heard tales of such things.

"Something festers in the heart of Middle Earth," Saruman went on. "Something that you have failed to see. But the great eye has seen it! Even now he presses his advantage. His attack will come soon." Gandalf pressed Shadowfax forwards a few paces. "You are all going to die! But you know this don't you Gandalf? You cannot think that this Ranger will ever sit upon the throne of Gondor. This exile, crept from the shadows will never be crowned King."

I glanced at Aragorn with a frown. Saruman was wrong... Aragorn seemed unphased by his words, but I knew Aragorn well enough to know how well he could hide his feelings.

"Gandalf does not hesitate to sacrifice those who are closest to him… those he professes to love!" Saruman's monologue was no yet finished, and I could see it having its effect, particularly upon the haflings. "Tell me, what words of comfort did you give the Halfling before you sent him to his doom? The path that you have set him on can only lead to death."

"I've heard enough!" Gimli suddenly grunted. "Shoot him! Stick an arrow in his gob!"

"Gimli-" I murmured, as Legolas reached to his back for an arrow. "Legolas, n'uma..." Legolas, no...

"No!" Gandalf stopped. "Come down Saruman, and your life will be spared."

"Save your pity and your mercy!" Saruman roared back. "I have no use for it!"

Before I could say anything, Saruman had aimed the foot end of his staff at Gandalf and fired a streaming bolt of fire toward us. "Gan-!"

But the fire consumed Gandalf, swirling about him before fading away, leaving Shadowfax and his rider unharmed.

Saruman did not seemed to understand, as Gandalf called up. "Saruman! Your staff is broken!"

The staff in Saruman's hands suddenly shook before exploding away into nothing. I allowed myself a small harsh smile. Saruman no longer had power. He could do nought to stop us now... And then my smile faded. As a small hunched man in black approached from behind Saruman. I did not know who he was...

"Grima!" Théoden called up. Grima? Grima Wormtongue... "You need not follow him! You were not always as you are now. You were once a man on Rohan. Come down."

Grima seemed to hesitate then bow as though he were going to comply, but Saruman cut across. "A man of Rohan? What is the house of Rohan but a thatched barn where brigands drink in the reek and their brats roll on the floor with the dogs? The victory at Helms Deep does not belong to you Théoden Horse Master. You are a lesser son of greater sires!"

"Grima, come down!" Théoden ignored Saruman. "Be free of him!"

"Free?" Saruman roared. "He will never be free!"

"No-" Grima began but Saruman turned to him.

"Get down... cur!" and he slapped his servant to the ground. I winced at the blow as though it had been upon me.

"Saruman!" Gandalf tried again. "You were deep in the enemy's counsel! Tell us what you know!"

"Gandalf, he is beyond reason," I murmured to the wizard.

"You withdraw your guard and I will tell you where your doom will be decided," Saruman shouted back, and I cocked my head in surprise. It was not submission, he was still convinced we would lose but it was information... "I will not be held prisoner here!"

But suddenly everything changed as a figure in black flung himself at Saruman's back, and in that split second I saw the flash of the raised knife. "No!" I called out, but it was too late.

Grima stabbed the knife down into his back. And again. This time, I did not try to stop Legolas as he notched and arrow, aimed and let fly. The arrow hit right on target and Grima cried out in pain. He fell back, but Saruman... he fell forward. His fall took no time at all, despite the tower's great height... until there was a sickening thud. Saruman was arched over backwards, impaled upon the spoke of a great wheel in front of our eyes. My eyelids flickered a little, but I was used to seeing death and the death of an enemy I was not going to weep over. But I saw Merry cringe out the corner of my eye... the haflings were not adjusted to such scenes.

Gandalf turned to us. "Send word to all our allies and to every corner of Middle Earth that still stands free. The enemy moves against us. We need to know where he will strike."

The wheel began to turn, and Saruman was hidden under the depths of the water...

"The filth of Saruman is washing away," Treebeard said gravely. "Trees will come back to live here. Young trees. Wild trees."

I suddenly noticed Pippin dismount from Brego and wade a little way off towards the wheel.

"Pippin!" Aragorn called.

But Pippin ignored him and reached down into the water, lifting something up.

"Bless my bark..." Treebeard murmured. The palantir!

Shadowfax suddenly approached. "Peregrin Took! I'll take that my lad! Quickly now!"

Pippin looked somewhat dejected at handing it over but did as he was told.

I gazed back up at the black tower of Orthanc. One down. Now for Sauron. Our task in Rohan was done. Sauron now would take the war to Gondor. The great fight was still to come. But we had time to prepare for that. Precious time...


	2. I Promise Again

_Heart beats fast, colours and promises,_

_How to be brave,_

_How can I love when I am afriad to fall,_

_But watching you stand alone,_

_All of my doubt suddenly goes away somehow,_

_One step closer._

_I have died everyday waiting for you,_

_Darling don't be afraid, I have loved you_

_For a thousand years_

_I'll love you for a thousand more_

- 'A Thousand Years', Christina Perri

* * *

_5 March 3019_

Éowyn knelt before the king and offered the goblet of wine to him, and Théoden, standing above us all upon the dais, held the goblet high in a toast to the hall. Éowyn rose up and modestly moved to stand behind him alongside her brother as Théoden began to speak.

"Tonight we remember those who gave their blood to defend this country," Théoden announced, raising the goblet. "Hail the victorious dead!"

I raised my own goblet, and returned his toast alongside Aragorn, Legolas and the entire filled hall. "Hail!" I took a light sip from the goblet, though I had requested to simply drink water. I had tried men's alcohol in previous years and had no taste for it.

There was a long pause as all thought of those who had died. Haldir was the first to cross my mind. He had been a loyal friend to me over so many years. A childhood companion, a sparring partner, a trust co-captain. I didn't know what I was going to do with him...

As loving thoughts died away, the noise grew. Friends began to converse quietly, Théoden stepped back to softly address his niece and nephew. Aragorn turned to me with a sad smile, his thoughts were still upon the war, clearly.

But it did not take long for the alcohol to break out in full force and for the hall to fill with raucous song and cheering. Celebrations in full swing.

"How does the gown fit, my lady," a voice at my shoulder soon asked, and I turned. Éowyn stood behind me, a goblet held in both hands. She had lent me a dress for the occasion of the evening and I found myself liking the young woman, despite the sad air she had about her.

I smiled, and stroked down the skirt of the lilac gown. "It fits perfectly, thank you. And please, call my Arnuríel, friends do."

Éowyn smiled back at me. "Arnuríel, of course. And it has been arranged that you will sleep in the halls with me, if that is suitable for you."

"That is very kind, thank you," I nodded gratefully. "It is pleasant to have female company once in a while."

For the first time since I had met her, Éowyn let out a light laugh. I smiled back, then suddenly frowned. Over her shoulder I could see Legolas and Gimli with Éomer by a great barrel. I presumed of alcohol.

"Excuse me, my la-... Arnuríel," Éowyn suddenly said, and I smiled and nodded as she moved away. Then I myself moved forward, a little closer towards the trio oto hear what they were saying.

"... no spills," Éomer was explaining.

"And no regurgitation!" Gimli growled gleefully, clinging a tankard to his chest, staring down into it's foamy depths.

"So... it's a drinking game?" Legolas clarified.

"Aye!" the Rohirrim acknowledged with drunken roaring laughs.

"Last one standing wins!" Gimli added, going onto downing his tankard in one.

"Legolas..." I murmured ever so softly and unsurely.

"A drinking game?" Aragorn muttered at my shoulder.

I nodded, as Legolas took a tentative sniff and then sip from his own tankard.

"Are elves accustomed to men's drinking games?" Aragorn asked me.

I shrugged lightly. "I can't speak for most of my kin, though I would doubt it, but I'm sure Legolas is not."

"This could be an interesting scene," Aragorn surmised, and I nodded. "Enjoy it."

I nodded again, as Aragorn turned away.

I watched for a near half an hour, time that flew by for me, in interest and vague concern as Gimli and Legolas' competition endured. Every now and then Éomer and I would exchange intrigued looks. He seemed as curious as I did. Gimli was long gone intoxicated, Legolas didn't seem at all affected.

"Raaar it's the dwarves that go swimming with little hair women, heh heh!" Gimli slurred, before letting out a burp and took another long draught of his tankard.

"I feel something," Legolas suddenly announced, raising his fingers in concern. Éomer's eyebrows rose, I guessed in an exact mirror to mine. "A slight tingle in my fingers. I think it's affecting me..."

"Heh heh!" Gimli laughed drunkenly. "What did I tell you? He can't hold his liquoooor..." Gimli's eyes suddenly crossed and there was a pause. Before he fell back drunkenly from his stool and hit the floor at Legolas' feet in an intoxicated stupor.

Legolas looked down at him for a moment. "Game over."

* * *

As the men began to settle down to sleep, I noticed Legolas was no longer in the hall. I knew Éowyn meant for me to sleep in the great hall with her, and she had already left to settle to sleep, but I wanted to speak to Legolas first. He must be outside...

I took up the fur lined cloak Éowyn had lent me and ducked out of the door, heading out onto the stone platform Théoden's palace was built upon, under the stars.

And there was the tall figure I recognised, standing on the corner, gazing across Edoras and Rohan.

"Quel undome..." I murmured as I approached quietly. _Good evening._ Legolas started ever so slightly and looked around at me, then smiled as I stood beside him.

"Quel undome, arwenamin," he replied softly. _Good evening, my lady._

We stood quietly for a while, gazing across the dark landscape, content in each others precense.

I suddenly noticed Legolas had turned his head slightly and was watching me curiously.

"Mani naa ta?" I asked. _What is it?_

"Something troubles you," Legolas replied.

I swallowed, and looked away... Sometimes he knew me a little too well.

"Ríel, what is it?"

"I wonder if I did the right thing in coming here?" I replied quietly. "Coming to Edoras after Helm's' Deep."

"What do you mean?" Legolas frowned.

"Well... a part of me feels I should have gone home with them," I explained, unsure. "I led my people into that war, with Haldir. And now I've left them to travel home alone, bearing Haldir's body, without a leader... I feel guilty. I just abandoned them, my own people."

Incredibly, Legolas' expression turned to a soft smile.

"What?" I asked.

He shook his head fondly. "I don't think I've ever met someone who can find so many reasons to feel guilty so often."

I sighed and turned back to the landscape.  
"Arnuríel," Legolas went on, his voice more serious. I turned back to him, and he locked his blue eyes with mine. "You have no reason to feel guilty. They understand that you had to leave them, and they could never hold it against you. They love you. They respect you. You selected Rivornor to lead them back home, and they'll be safe. They know that you are risking your life to head deeper into this war. If anything, they will pity you, and be fearful for you."

I sighed. I guessed he was right, but a part of me still nagged with guilt.

"You still feel guilty, don't you," Legolas raised his eyebrows.

I almost laughed in despair. "And would you love me any more if I were any less prone to guilt?"

Legolas smiled. "Not at all."

I eyed him with a grin and turned away, still smiling. "And is that the alcohol speaking there?"

Legolas let out a sharp laugh. "Aiya, Ríel!" _Oh, Ríel!_

I laughed too. "You agreed you were intoxicated! What would your father say... Aiya amin!" Oh my!

"Lle-" Legolas began, and reached his arm around me to tickle my side. I laughed as I fell against him, and he held me close, his deft fingers still lightly pattering my waist. I buried my face in his chest, still giggling like a child.

"Amin lava!" I laughed, muffledly. _I yield!_

"Amin uuma malia!" he replied. _I don't care!_ But he stopped a moment later, and just held me comfortingly. I felt him press a kiss to the top of my head. "Uuma dela, Ríel. Ta nauva quel." _Don't worry Ríel. It will be well._

"Amin sinta," I replied softly. _I know._ I looked up at him, gazing lovingly into his deep blue eyes, and smiled softly, gently placing a hand to his pale cheek. "Diola lle." _Thank you._

He leant down and gently kissed me, then pressed his forehead against mine. "Amin mela lle." _I love you._

I smiled again. "Amin sinta. Ar' amin mela lle." _I know. And I love you._

"The Lady Éowyn is waiting for you at the doorway," Legolas suddenly said quietly.

I lightly drew my finger down his cheek, before suddenly, cheekily, reach behind him and pullling his hood up, then pulling away gently. "I'd better go in."

"Get some rest," Legolas advised.

"I will," I nodded.

"Lle vesta?" _You promise?_

I gave a light laugh. "Amin vesta." _I promise._ Legolas smiled and caught my hand gently. For a moment, he traced one of my fingers with his own, then turned it over and lightly kissed the inside of my wrist. The touch, soft as it was, sent tingles up my arm and I sighed. "Quel dome, melamin." _Good night, my love._

"Quel esta, vanima," _Rest well, beautiful._

Reluctantly, I gently pulled away, my hand dropping from his.

* * *

Éowyn fell back into the doorway as I approached, and dropped her face with a kind of apologetic expression. "I hope you don't think I was spying, I didn't mean-"

I laughed kindly, and took her hand gently. "Don't worry, I don't think anything of the sort. I thought you had retired already, is everything alright?"

Éowyn nodded. "A dream woke me, that is all. I wondered if you were alright, I could not find you."

"I'm well," I smiled back. "In need of rest, but fine."

"Come, this way," Éowyn nodded, and she led me through two corridors and into the main hall. Two chaises had been positioned either side of a simmering fire and Éowyn sat down upon one of them. I arranged my cloak and reclined upon the other, deftly and swiftly plaiting my long hair into its sleep braid.

"My lady..." I raised my eyebrows at Éowyn with a smile. She paused and smiled. "Arnuríel. May I ask you something?"

"Of course," I replied.

"Lord Aragorn, how do you know him?"

I looked at her curiously. There was an innocent look in her eyes, and something else. Something I recognised. But I smiled. "We're old friends. He was brought up by relatives of mine, and I watched him grow up. There are few I trust more than Lord Aragorn."

Éowyn nodded but did not reply instantly. I watched her carefully. She had feelings for him. I felt I should tell her that Aragorn's heart already belonged to another, to my niece of all people, but it seemed too harsh. Perhaps nothing would come of this... I would hope for it.

"How did you, and the Lord Legolas meet?" Éowyn suddenly asked.

I looked up at her, and this time I felt a light flush enter my pale cheeks as I smiled modestly. Éowyn eyed my with a suspicious smile herself. "We were only children the first time. My father took my sister and I to Legolas' home to create a peace treaty with his father, the king."

"Lord Legolas is a prince?" Éowyn asked in surprise.

I nodded fondly. "If I'm honest I spent much of that trip in envy of him. My father insisted that my sister and I remain inside and study. I had to watch Legolas practising sword play and archery most of my days there."

"So when did..." Éowyn asked, her voice trailing off, unsure how to ask, but knowing I understood.

I smiled again. "Well we didn't then meet again, until we had both grown up and our fathers made another alliance attempt. But it wasn't until our third meeting that... well, he expressed his feelings, and I expressed mine. And even then, it took my sister to heavily encourage us both for us to express anything at all."

Éowyn smiled. "She was keen for you to get together, it seems."

I laughed. "For such a renound healer, patience was not one of her gifts!"

"Was not?" Éowyn frowned.

My smile saddened slightly. "My sister left this world many years ago."

"I'm sorry," Éowyn replied.

I shook my head. "Don't worry. It was her choice to depart in the end, and it was better that she did so. I just miss her. She was my best friend, I owe her a lot."

"Such as Legolas?"

My smile widened again. "That's true!"

"I'm sorry, I should let you rest now," Éowyn suddenly told me apologetically. "You and Legolas seem... very happy. I've never met an elf before, but I'm gad to finally have the pleasure."

I smiled again. "The pleasure is mine. And we are... Good night, Éowyn."

"Good night, Arnuríel."

I lay back upon the pillows, and pulled my fur lined cloak over me. I felt I hadn't rested properly in days, and I was going to welcome a chance at a sleep, lightly as I did sleep. And in that moment I felt strangely at peace. We were in the middle of a war, but at the moment... Rohan was at peace. Legolas was safe. My people were headed home. We could relax in this small instant, and make it last as long as we could.


	3. Farewells

_It started out as a feeling,_

_Which then grew into a hope,_

_Which turned into a quiet thought which then turned into a quiet word,_

_And that word grew louder and louder till it was battle cry,_

_I'll come back when you call me,_

_No need to say goodbye_

- 'The Call', Regina Spektor

* * *

_6 March 3019_

I wasn't sure what it was that woke me, but I suddenly found myself sitting up and staring wildly around. My fur cloak had slipped from my shoulders, my hair tousled and falling from it's braid. I was breathing heavily.

I swallowed, and let out a long steadying breath. Éowyn was still sleeping quietly, the fire still crackling faintly. The air was quiet. Shuffling into a more comfortable position and rearranging my gown and cloak, I reached up and shook my hair from its plait, with the intention of rearranging it but as I tossed my hair loose about my shoulders, when there was suddenly a scream.

I did not even stop to think about my actions, I was moving, leaping from the chaise and dashing through the doorway, down the corridor into the lesser hall where the men were sleeping. I skidded to a halt in the doorway, clinging to the pillar as I clasped at the skirt of my gown up from the ground, staring about.

Pippin was writhing on his feet, the palantir clasped in his hands, as though he were unable to drop it. His mouth was open in a kind of soundless scream. The lack of sound did not detract from the clear pain Pippin was in.

Merry was trying to help him.

"Pippin..." I breathed. "Merry, don't touch it!"

"Pippin!" Merry cried, still reaching for him as Pippin collapsed to the floor, and I leapt forward, clasping Merry to me to keep him safe. "Help! Gandalf, help!

"Mithrandir!" I screamed.

Gandalf awoke with a start just as Aragorn and Legolas burst through the doors.

"Ríel!" Legolas leapt across to me, and glanced over Merry.

"Help him!" Merry cried.

"Mithrandir, sii!" I shrieked. Mithrandir, now!

Aragorn attempted to take the palantir from Pippin and struggled with it momentarily before it fell and rolled across the floor. I pulled Merry away as it skidded past our feet. Pippin was collapsed upon the floor as though paralysed.

"Pippin!" Merry cried again, and I released him as Gandalf covered the palantir swiftly with a cloth.

"Fool of a Took!" Gandalf roared.

"Gandalf!" I admonished in shock, as Legolas held my shoulders while I attempted to catch my own breath. "Aragorn, is he alright?"

Gandalf suddenly ran to Pippin's side, pushing Merry away, and holding his hand with one of his own while placing the other against the hafling's forehead. He began to mutter and suddenly Pippin jerked to life, breathing hard, sweating heavily. I had never seen such terror in his eyes and I bit my lip in worry.

"Look at me!" Gandalf growled.

"Gandalf, forgive me!" Pippin whimpered.

"Look at me!" Gandalf repeated! "What did you see?"

"A tree, there was a white tree in a courtyard of stone," Pippin breathed. "It was dead. The city was burning."

I frowned. The white tree of Gondor? Of Minas Tirith... I glanced briefly at Aragorn.

"Minas Tirith?" Gandalf asked. "Is that what you saw?"

"I saw..." Pippin whispered. "I saw him. I could hear his voice in my head."

I stared at the little peredhil.

"And what did you tell him?" Gandalf interrogated. "Speak!"  
"Gandalf!" I pleaded softly.

"He asked me my name," Pippin replied. "I didn't answer... He hurt me!"

"What did you tell him about Frodo and the Ring?" Gandalf asked.

* * *

"There was no lie in Pippin's eyes," Gandalf explained. He glanced at Pippin. "A fool, but an honest foot he remains."

It was morning. Early morning, but an unquestionable dawn streamed through the windows. A council was in session, and I was standing to the side between Gandalf and the haflings, leaning against a column, listening quietly for now.

"He told Sauron nothing of Frodo and the Ring," Gandalf went on. "We've been strangely fortunate. Pippin saw in the Palantir a glimpse of the enemy's plan. Sauron moves to strike the city of Minas Tirith. His defeat at Helm's Deep showed our enemy one thing. He knows the Heir of Elendil has come forth. Men are not as weak as he supposed. There is courage still. Strength enough, perhaps, to challenge him. Sauron fears this. He will not risk the peoples of Middle Earth uniting under one banner. He will raze Minas Tirith to the ground before he sees a King return to the throne of men. If the beacons of Gondor are lit Rohan must be ready for war."

"Tell me!" Théoden suddenly asked. "Why should we ride to the aid of those who did not come to ours? What do we owe Gondor?"

There was a long pause as no one dared challenge the king's question.

"Arnuríel?"

It was Aragorn's voice. I started slightly and focussed upon him. All were staring at me, Gimli frowning at my hands. I looked down and saw that my hands were holding my arms in a vice-like grip, my knuckles, visibly white despite their natural paleness of my skin. My jaw was set angrily.

"If you have a problem, my lady," Théoden announced suspiciously, putting a noticeable stress of sarcasm upon the title, "then speak. Your mind."

I let out a long breath and unclenched my jaw, pushing forward from the column and taking a couple of steps toward Théoden.

"As you wish, my king," I replied, stressing as much sarcasm upon his own title as he had mine. I flexed my fingers. I was known among my own people for not being easily wound-up. I was easy going. But if the wrong thing was very rarely said, it was enough to push me straight over the edge. Théoden had succeeded.

"You ask, what it is that you owe Gondor," I said slowly, clarifying my understanding of what he had said. "Why should you help someone who did not appear to help you. But may I put this question to you? Because I'm failing to understand. What exactly was it that the elves of Lothlorien and Rivendell owed Rohan? Because I brought my people here to assist you. And I wasn't aware that it was part of a deal."

Théoden looked momentarily taken aback, before he regained himself. "I never asked for the help of your people, and your captain said so himself, there was an allegiance that he came to honour."

I stared at him.

"Ríel..." Legolas began softly, but it was too late.

"An allegiance!" I shouted. "An allegiance is not a debt! One could say Rohan and Gondor have an allegiance in simply co-existing as neighbouring countries for hundreds of years! With a common enemy! Is that not allegiance enough for you? My people owed you no debt, we came because we knew that if Rohan fell, Middle-Earth would fall and we are not so small-minded to hold a grudge that would implicate the life of our world, not just our own people!"

"How dare you insult me in my own halls!" Théoden thundered, but he didn't scare me. Not when I was like this. "I have lost my wife and son in this war, I am-"

"Aiya, don't you dare presume that I've never lost anything or anyone!" I threatened, my voice almost a dangerous hiss. "My sister left me long ago because of these creatures, and I lost my greatest friend, along with half my forces only two days ago."

"I did not ask your friends to come to my aid!" Théoden retorted. "I have fought many wars, I could have-"

"No, do not say you could have done it without us," I hissed. "You know that that is not true. I was captaining forces before you were born. I was there fighting two thousand years ago when the ring was first cut from Sauron's finger. My friends died defending a greater cause than Rohan's life then and my friends died defending a greater cause than your pride yesterday! This war is bigger than your self-importance! If you can't see past your own country then, think of this. You owe Gondor nothing. But your owe your people life. Abandon Gondor and they won't have that.

Théoden appeared utterly taken aback. I was still breathing heavily. I was not letting this go lightly.

"I will go," Aragorn suddenly announced, as if to create a peaceful alternative.

"No!" Gandalf interrupted.

"They must be warned!" Aragorn insisted.

"They will be," Gandalf agreed and he approached Aragorn and spoke to him more quietly. I could have heard if I wished but I was too angry to try. "Understand this, things are now in motion that cannot be undone. I ride for Minas Tirith and I wont be going alone."

I looked at him. Gandalf was eyeing Pippin who looked confused. I stared back around at Théoden for a moment, then looked to Gandalf. "No. I'm coming as well."

* * *

"Ríel!"

It had not taken much longer in Théoden's halls before I had left, my fists still balled, agreeing to meet Gandalf in only a few minutes to leave for Minas Tirith. But Legolas was chasing after me.

"Ríel!" He darted around in front of me, and I stopped dead.

"N'uma, Legolas-" _No, Legolas-_

"Ríel, lasto-" _Ríel, listen!_

"N'uma!" No! I took a deep steadying breath. "I can't go back in there. He infuriates me, and I can't afford to lose my head again. I'm sorry I did it just then."

"I know," Legolas nodded. "Though you were right, you know. You went a little extreme with it, but your point was understandable."

I sighed.

"No, what I wanted to protest against," Legolas continued, "was you leaving. Don't go to Minas Tirith. You don't have to be near Théoden, but don't go."

I swallowed sadly. "I have to, Legolas. If I stay here, there are just going to be tensions between Théoden and I, and nobody needs that. It would be better for me leave. And I do can do more good in Minas Tirith than here. Théoden won't listen to me. Gondor may. And someone needs to look after Pippin, you know how Gandalf can be with him." I gave a sad smile. Legolas didn't laugh.

He frowned at me. "I can't see you ride away, not to a battle, what it-"

"Don't say that!" I protested.

"Then I'm coming with you," Legolas decided staunchly.

"No," I sighed. The hurt look in Legolas' eyes made me want to melt away. I placed my hands to his cheeks gently. "I love you. But we can't always be together, sometimes we're needed in different places. I can't stay with the Rohirrim. But you can't leave Aragorn. He needs you, you and Gimli, you know that."

"But I need you too," Legolas stared me down.

"And you'll always have me," I replied softly. "Amin vesta." _I promise._ I smiled tentatively.

After a moment, Legolas reluctantly returned the smile. "I know... Just as long as you stay safe."  
"I will," I nodded. We both knew it wasn't a promise I could honestly make, a promise either of us could make... But we would promise each other anyway.

"Of all the hobbits, Peregrin Took, you are the worst!" a voice suddenly roared, and we both suddenly turned. Gandalf was striding down the path, both haflings in tow. "Hurry, hurry!"

I swallowed and looked back to Legolas for a moment before we both followed Gandalf into the stable block. The wizard and the hobbits were already mounting up onto Shadowfax.

I opened the little gate boxing in Alrohar, and saddled him up faster than I ever had before. Legolas fixed his bridle, while I buckled the girth. Alrohar seemed to understand the importance of the situation, and stood perfectly still for us both, not even giving Legolas trouble with the bit. I swung myself up onto Alrohar's back, tested the girth once more, and gathered the reins.

"Be careful," Legolas warned, one hand in my leg before I nudged Alrohar away. I placed my hand upon his.

"I will," I replied seriously. "Amin mela lle." _I love you._

"Cormamin niuve tenna' ta elea lle au'," Legolas murmured. _My heart shall weep until it sees you again._

I leant down from Alrohar and kissed him gently. "Namarie," I whispered. _Farewell_.

"Namarie," Legolas replied. _Farewell_.

I felt tears prick my eyes as I heard Gandalf's cry as Shadowfax streaked past us. "Arnuríel!"

And Alrohar followed, shooting forward as we left Legolas behind, cantering in the dust of the white stallion, through the gates of Edoras and away across the plains.

Atop the furthest hill, I pulled Alrohar up sharply, and turned to look back. Edoras was a hill on the horizon now but I could still see clearly, Legolas standing atop the walls with Aragorn and Merry. Alrohar reared up with a comforting whiney once before falling back to earth, tossing his black mane.

"Namarie," I whispered again, and then leaned down to my beloved stallion. "Noro lim, Alrohar." _Farewell. Ride on, Alrohar. _Alro pushed off again, galloping after Shadowfax. We were bound on a different path to Legolas now, but we would be together again, soon. For now. Minas Tirith.

* * *

**Yay for unelvish tantrums and cheesy lines ^_^**

**Neia xxx**


	4. A Fool's Hope

_Open your heart_

_I am calling you_

_Right from the very start_

_Your wounded heart was calling, too_

_Open your arms_

_You will find the answer_

_When you answer to the call_

- 'The Call', Celtic Woman

* * *

9 March 3019

We rode for nigh on four days, breaking now and then to allow the horses and Pippin a rest. Often, I would glance across to see Pippin dozing to sleep upon Shadowfax, lulled into a sleep by the stallion's smooth gait and the support of Gandalf behind him. I would smile to myself each time I noticed. For Gandalf and I there was no rest. For me, there was too much plaguing my mind, too many thoughts to comprehend sleep. Thoughts of my mother's words to me before I had left Lothlorien for Helm's Deep. Words I had pushed from my mind until now. Now they were needed.

Soon we passed into the realm of Gondor, and finally we crested a hill and paused the horses. Alrohar stretched his neck down and rubbed a foreleg with his muzzle.

Before us, rising from the mountain, the great white city. A creation of triumph, no one could deny it. I had only been to the white city a few times through my long years, mostly as an ambassador for my people.

"Minas Tirith," Gandalf sighed, as Pippin stared. "City of Kings."

"Tal erain," I repeated softly, but in my own tongue. _City of kings._

We pushed the horses forward again, the last stretch to the city and then we were within its gates, cantering through the streets with all haste, the people of the city hurrying to move out of our way as we ascended each sloping level of the city, up and up until we reached the royal summit.

I swung down from Alrohar and by the tree of Gondor, and noticed Pippin look up at it. "It's the tree! Gandalf! Gandalf!"

"Yes the white tree of Gondor," Gandalf agreed as we strode towards the throne room, Pippin hurrying to keep up. "The tree of the King. Lord Denethor however, is not the King. He is a steward only, a caretaker of the throne."

"Not that he should believe so," I murmured and Gandalf glanced at me. Denethor had long ago been corrupted by power and Gandalf knew it as well as I.

At the door, Gandalf paused and turned down to the hafling. "Now listen carefully. Lord Denethor is Boromir's father. To give him news of his beloved son's death would be most unwise. And do not mention Frodo or the Ring." Pippin nodded, but suddenly Gandalf turned back to him again. "And say nothing of Aragorn either." He paused again. "In fact, its better if you don't speak at all, Peregrin Took."

"Mithrandir," I said softly, with a vague smile. Pippin had a compulsive nature, warnings would not make a great deal of difference, I doubted. Gandalf gave me an innocent look.

The guards opened the doors forward and we passed through into royal throne room. It had seen better days. I remembered times when a king sat upon the throne, a steward at his side, and a queen welcoming great lords to the city. Now the room was near empty but for a fe guards and the one steward. Denethor. Hunched over in his chair, something in his hands. I frowned for a moment before recognizing the horn. It was broken now, but there was no doubt as to who it had once belonged to. Boromir's horn. I swallowed. Gandalf's warning had been in vain, Denethor already knew of his son's death. Our welcome already felt colder.

"Hail Denethor son of Ecthelion, Lord and Steward of Gondor," Gandalf announced, raising his staff in acknowledgment. "I come with tidings in this dark hour and with counsel."

"Perhaps you come to explain this," Denethor growled, raising the horn to us. "Perhaps you have come to tell me why my son is dead."

I gave a long sigh. For a brief moment I wondered if coming here had been the best idea; Théoden might not listen to me but Denethor listened to no one. He was beyond reason. But I cast the thought aside; I knew I had to be here.

"Boromir died to save us; my kinsman and me," Pippin explained regretfully. "He fell defending us from many foes." He knelt down upon one knee.

"Pippin!" Gandalf began but Pippin ignored him.

"I offer you my service, such as it is in payment of this debt," Pippin offered. Denethor eyed him. "This is my first command to you. How did you escape and my son did not? So mighty as man as he was."

"The mightiest man may be slain by one arrow and Boromir was pierced by many," Pippin replied.

Denethor said nothing.

"Get up!" Gandalf knocked Pippin aside with his staff and I placed a light hand of the hafling's shoulder. "My lord, there will be a time to grieve for Boromir but it is not now. War is coming. The enemy is on your doorstep. As steward, you are charged with the defence of this city. Where are Gondor's armies? You still have friends. You are not alone in this fight. Send word to Théoden of Rohan. Light the beacons."

"You think you are wise Mithrandir," Denethor hissed and I narrowed my eyes curiously. "Yet for all your subtleties you have not wisdom. Do you think the eyes of the White Tower are blind? I have seen more than you know. You come here, stating welcome, bringing the Halfling who caused the death of my son, and an elf, whose people have ever looked on Gondor with scorn-"

"Careful, Denethor," I suddenly warned. "My kin have always held Gondor as our ally."

Denethor glowered at me. "You will remember your place, elf!"

"And you yours, Steward," I replied swiftly.

Denethor looked back to Gandalf, choosing to ignore me. "With your left hand you would use me as a shield against Mordor and with your right you would seek to supplant me. I know who rides with Théoden of Rohan. Oh yes, word has reached my ears of this Aragorn, son of Arathorn. And I tell you now. I will not bow to this Ranger from the North! Last of a ragged house long bereft of Lordship."

"Authority is not given to you to deny the return of the King, steward," Gandalf admonished.

"The rule of Gondor is mine and no others!" Denethor bellowed, lunging forwards.

Gandalf stared at him for a moment before turning on his heel and striding away. "Come."

I nudged Pippin after him and with a last glance at Denethor, followed them both.

"All had turned to vain ambition," Gandalf muttered as we left. "He would use even his grief as a cloak! A thousand years this city has stood and now at the whim of a madman it will fall! And the white tree, the tree of the King will never bloom again."

We passed back through the open courtyard past the tree.

"Why are they still guarding it?" Pippin asked.

Gandalf sighed, as we moved along the parapet towards the tip of the courtyard. "They guard it because they have hope. A faint and fading hope that one day it will flower. That a king will come and this city will be as it once was before it fell into decay. The old wisdom born out of the west was forsaken. Kings made tombs more splendid than the houses of the living and counted the old names of their descent dearer than the names of their sons. Childless lords sat in aged halls musing on heraldry or in high, cold towers asking questions of the stars. And so the people of Gondor fell into ruin. The line of Kings failed. The white tree withered. The rule of Gondor was given over to lesser men."

I sighed. "N'ner edain… Denethor naa n'ner athan edainath n'ner." _Lesser men… Denethor is less than all lesser men._

"Mordor…" Pippin murmured.

"Yes, there it lies." Gandalf agreed. "This city has dwelt ever in the sight of its shadow."

"A storm is coming," Pippin noted.

"This is not the weather of the world," Gandalf said. "This is a device of Sauron's making. A broil of fume he sends ahead of his host. The Orcs of Mordor have no love of daylight, so he covers the face of the sun to ease their passage along the road to war. When the shadow of Mordor reaches this city it will begin."

"A fight of all our lives," I murmured.

"Indeed," Gandalf agreed."

"Well… Minas Tirith… very impressive," Pippin suddenly perked up. "So where are we off to next?"

I half laughed.

"Oh, it's too late for that Peregrin. There's no leaving this city. Help must come to us."

* * *

Later that evening we had been settled into accommodation. The people of Gondor remained hospitable, regardless of their Steward's less-than-warm feelings towards us.

I sat upon the balcony's sill, my legs hanging over. I was not afraid of falling, I was perfectly at ease where I was. I wondered where Legolas was now, was he safe… Concerns followed for Aragorn and Gimli, and Merry. Then my thoughts turned to my own people, hoping Haldir had been bourn home safely. And then my mother… and finally her words came back to my mind.

"So I imagine this is just a ceremonial position," Pippin suddenly piped up, his voice interrupting my thoughts. "I mean, they don't actually expect me to do any fighting… do they?"

"You're in the service of the steward now," Gandalf replied. "You'll have to do as you are told, Peregrin Took." His voice quitened, but my ears still picked up his words. "Ridiculous Hobbit! Guard of the Citadel! " I smiled fondly.

Gandalf suddenly coughed, and the murmured "Thank you" before I noticed Pippin approach to lean his chin upon the balcony beside me, gazing out into the darkness.

"There's no more stars," Pippin observed. "Is it time?"

"Yes," Gandalf nodded, approaching beside us.

"It's so quiet," Pippin murmured.

"It's the deep breath before the plunge," Gandalf replied.

"I don't want to be in a battle," Pippin said quietly. "But waiting on the edge of one I can't escape is even worse."

I glanced down at him. "That's a wise thing to feel."

Pippin looked up at me. "How many battles have you fought, Arnuríel?"

I gave a weak laugh. "Too many to name. I once knew the number. But I lost count many years ago."

"Does it get easier?" Pippin asked.

I shook my head. "The fear becomes lesser but it never leaves entirely. But you can use your fear. I use mine as strength."

"So you are afraid to die?"

I shook my head again. "I have never been afraid of death. My fear of a battle comes from fear for the cause. That what I am fighting for will be lost. A life, a city… Now my fear is for Ennorath." Pippin frowned. "Middle Earth. And for the future of the people I love."

Pippin swallowed and stared out over Gondor for a moment. "Is there any hope Gandalf, for Frodo and Sam? "There never was much hope. Just a fool's hope. Our enemy is ready. His full strength's gathered. Not only orcs, but men as well. Legions of Haradrim from the South, mercenaries from the coast. All will answer Mordor's call."

"Which is why as many must answer Gondor's," I added. "If a fool's hope is to prevail."

"This will be the end of Gondor as we know it," Gandalf continued. "Here the hammer stroke will fall hardest. If the river is taken, if the garrison at Osgiliath falls, the last defence of this city will be gone."

"But we have the white wizard. That's got to count for something."

The hope on Pippin's face was heartbreaking and Gandalf looked from his face to mine pitifully. Gandalf and I both knew that Gandalf's strength could only count for so much.

"Gandalf?" Pippin asked, our hesitation worrying.

"Sauron has yet to show his deadliest servant," Gandalf explained. "The one who will lead Mordor's army in war. The one they say no living man can kill. The Witch King of Angmar. You've met him before. He stabbed Frodo on Weathertop. He is the lord of the Nazgûl. The greatest of the nine."

I sighed and looked back out across the landscape, and suddenly I froze, and sat up a little straighter. A column of great emerald light exploded from beyond Gondor's boundaries. Minas Morgul.

"We come to it at last," Gandalf said softly. "The great battle of our time. The board is set, the pieces are moving."

* * *

It was not long after that Pippin retired to sleep, but I remained where I was. Upon the balcony, waiting, watching. Gandalf returned to stand beside me, his pipe still in his hand.

"There has been something on your mind, Arnuríel, for many days now," he observed quietly. "What burdens you?"

My thoughts were as easy to hide from Gandalf, as they were Legolas. I gave a long sigh. "My mother."

"Ah," Gandalf nodded. "What words did she speak this time."

"I don't think I'm going to outlive this war, Mithrandir," I replied softly. "I've fought so many fights and for so long. I think my luck has run out." Gandalf said nothing but watched me, waiting for me to explain. "She told me before I left for Helm's Deep… that should Rohan survive, I would be needed in Gondor. That the city would need one of her kin. That through me, she and I could perhaps give this city one last defence. But I don't believe I will survive it."

Gandalf sighed. "I have known you many years Anruriel, and I know few stronger. You may yet survive this."

I did not reply.

"Tell me, did you tell Legolas of this-"

I instantly laughed weakly. "Of course not. He would never have let me come to Gondor if I had."

Gandalf nodded. "Have faith. This war will claim many lives. I am not so sure that one of them will be yours."

I smiled sadly at him, not undermining his word. But I didn't truly believe him. And he knew it.


	5. Hope Rekindled

**Many apologies for the delay! I've been working lots the past week, either doing chores at home or at my job in town at the drug store... Hooray for monies! But here is a mini chapter for peeps! Longer one coming in the next couple days hopefullies! ^_^**

**Neia xxx**

* * *

_Wise man said just walk this way_

_To the dawn of the light_

_The wind will blow into your face_

_As the years pass you by_

_Hear this voice from deep inside_

_It's the call of your heart_

_Close your eyes and you will find_

_Passage out of the dark_

_Here I am_

_Will you send me an angel_

_Here I am_

_In the land of the morning star_

- 'Send Me An Angel', Scorpions

* * *

_10 March 3019_

I was standing quietly, in a quiet upper street of Minas Tirith, my back flat against the white stone wall behind me, and my cloak drawn close around me with the hood half pulled over my head. I didn't want to draw attention to myself. I stood out enough as it was, as an elf. A few curious passers-by did throw glances at me, not suspicious but wondering. A child even ran up and tugged my cloak.

"Are you the elf lady?"

I gave a soft smile down at him. "I am."

The young boy stared up at me with wide, almost hyptonized eyes for a moment. I was willing to bet my life he had never even seen one of my kind before, it was practically a fact.

"You're very pretty," the boy suddenly piped up and I gave a light laugh.

"Hannon le," I replied. Thank you.

The boy stared at me for a moment, and he seemed to understand what I had said. He blushed and suddenly raced away. I smiled again, and redrew my cloak around me, refocusing on the reason I was there.

I looked up again to my right, to the little tower set high above me. The unlit, ready bonfire. Minas Tirith's beacon, its call for help. It needed to be lit, but Denethor refused. Gandalf had confided in me the previous night as Pippin slept; he intended for Pippin to light the beacon today. I approved of the idea; I was confident that Pippin would succeed and I was pleased that Gandalf finally appeared to be putting faith into the little hobbit.

I had left early to watch the tower, check its guards, its position. Pippin would have to climb the back way to reach it, but he could do it, and noticed. He was small enough and he wore a cloak made by my own people, he would be disguised.

I suddenly heard a familiar voice, gradually getting closer. I turned and looked back down the street. Gandalf was hurrying up, Pippin close at his heels.

"Another opportunity for one of the Shire folk to prove their great worth," Gandalf explained, and eyed me. I nodded at him. It was safe for Pippin. They stopped beside me, and Pippin gave me a nervous glance. I nodded at him with an encouraging smile and Pippin swallowed, a little reassured.

Gandalf placed a hand on Pippin's shoulder. "You must not fail me."

Pippin nodded firmly, after a slight moments pause, and then ran from us, up the street, towards the watch tower.

"I am glad to see you trust Peregrin," I murmured, as we watched Pippin begin to climb. My elf eyes could see every sure-footed step the hobbit made, choosing the best footholds and handgrips to climb speedily up the rockface.

"I always trusted him," Gandalf replied.

"I know," I agreed. I did. "But you perhaps have not shown him that you trust him."  
"Hm… Have I not?"

I turned to Gandalf and smiled with eyebrows slightly raised.

Gandalf nodded. "Perhaps you are right."

"Oh, I'm always right," I replied solemnly, still watching Pippin climb.

Gandalf gave a noise that sounded very much like a derived snort. "I cannot quite understand how that prince of yours has put up with you for so many years."

I laughed. "Am I that unbearable?"

Gandalf smiled at me. "No, perhaps not. Only when you wish to be."

I smiled fondly at him, then glanced back up to check the hafling's progress. "Look."

Pippin had clambered onto the very top of the beacon, and now stood, looking a little unsure of what to do next.

"The oil…" I murmured softly, but Pippin was already suddenly reached upward, towards the high burning lamp. He tugged at the bowl of oil, which spilt over the wood at his feet. The fire would burn brighter for the oil. Then he reached up again, and this time grabbed at the lamp, dropping it onto the oil-soaked wood. As soon as I saw the first flickers of flame, I smiled.

"He's done it," I whispered, and looked around to Gandalf, my smile widening. Gandalf instantly smiled with satisfaction as the flame burned brighter and moved to the parapet. I watched Pippin begin to clamber back down as the Gondorian guards were alerted to the flames, before I followed Gandalf.

"Amon Dîn," Gandalf murmured, and almost as he said it, we saw in the distance, the next beacon, the beacon of Amon Dîn, burst into dancing flame.

"The beacon!" A guard beside us suddenly noticed, raising the alarm. "The beacon of Amon Dîn is lit!"

I looked to Gandalf with a smile.

"Hope is rekindled!" Gandalf murmured.

The chain had begun. And it would move across the mountains, beacon to beacon, all the way to Rohan. Gandalf was right, hope was rekindled. If Rohan acknowledged Gondor's cry. I just prayed now that Theoden would answer.


	6. Ages Past

_We are the lucky ones,_

_We shine like a thousand suns,_

_When all of the colour runs together,_

_I'll keep you company,_

_In one glorious harmony,_

_Waltzing with destiny forever_

- 'Dark Waltz', Hayley Westenra

* * *

_10 March 3019_

Or was hope rekindled… Maybe Rohan would come but would there be any Gondor left to save?

My gaze was suddenly distracted from the burning flame on Amon Dur by something far below it. Osgiliath. I could see the ruins of the city, in far greater detail than those around me.

"Gandalf," I murmured. "Mithrandir, Osgiliath!"

The scene before me was horrific. The stone city, falling and crumbling to pieces beneath an onslaught of ruthless orcs slaughtering their way mercilessly through the Gondorian army.

My wide eyes span around to Gandalf in horror. "What can we do?"

Gandalf leant forward over the parapet, surveying the scene as though looking for some way to help. "I-"

And that was when we heard it. The dreadful screeching call of the Nazgûl.

"Mirthrandir!" I nearly screamed. The men were beginning to retreat back across the plains, some running, some riding fleeing steeds, in desperation of safety in Minas Tirith.

"Arnuríel, wait here," Gandalf instructed me swiftly, turning to me, as Pippin suddenly appeared at our sides, his own eyes suddenly wide and horrified. "Keep all the Gondorian forces in the city, they cannot help out there and they must not try. Have the men ready to receive them in the main courtyard. Pippin, you have done well, but now I need you for another task. Come with me. There are men out there who need our help."

In a moment, Gandalf and the Halfling had disappeared from my side and I turned again to stare out at the fallen city across the fields. Nazgûls were circling above it, striking where they pleased, now chasing the fleeing forces like a great dark plague.

"We must go to them," a guard beside me shouted desperately.

"No!" I replied. I glanced momentarily at him, and his ranking. He was a captain. He had authority. "Keep everyone here," I instructed. "As Mithrandir said. He will do what he can, and we must not stop him. Send a word to the healing house, have them prepared for imminent casualties."

The guard looked a little taken aback but after a moment staring at me, he nodded and turned to give my orders out.

The moment I heard them given, I disappeared, darting down through the streets of Gondor like a young deer, swiftly and silently. Most glanced around as I ran past but not quick enough to catch me to ask me where I was going, what I was doing.

As I fled through the mid city I heard shouts, some nearer from Minas Tirith, and some fainter, from the fields; "It's Mithrandir! The White Rider!"

I gave the smallest of relieved sighs as I ran; Gandalf and Shadowfax were reaching them, there was some hope now.

I finally reached the entrance court in time to see the soldiers running forwards to heave open the great gates to the city to allow the remainder of Osgiliath's guard to enter. "Pull!" one of the men shouted desperately.

The gates were quickly open enough to allow the entrance of the people, and Gandalf came flying through ahead of the men. I leapt down to meet him.

"Alright?" I asked quickly.

Gandalf nodded. I glanced down at Pippin; the little hobbit looked a little on shock and I placed a hand on his knee gently with an encouraging smile.

"Mithrandir!"

I stepped aside slightly as Shadowfax span around, before stepping back again to stroke Shadowfax's neck gently. "Lle ume quell, mellon," I whispered quickly. _You did well, friend. _Shadowfax snorted appreciatively into my hand for a moment before raising his head and turning it away. The great stallion wasted no time on anyone but Gandalf and I had spent a great deal of time trying to be his friend; I loved horses too much not to. As a result, I had gained a certain amount of respect from him and I respected him for it; for allowing me in.

It was Faramir who had shouted and now he approached upon his own stallion. "They broke through our defences. They've taken the bridge and the West bank. Battalions of Orcs are crossing the river."

"It is as the Lord Denethor predicted!" a guard called desperately. "Long has he forseen this doom!"  
"Forseen and done nothing," Gandalf retorted distastefully. But I was watching Faramir who had suddenly frozen, staring down at Pippin. Pippin looked away uncomfortably.

"Faramir?" Gandalf asked. "This is not the first Halfling to have crossed your path!"

"No," Faramir agreed.

Pippin's eyes suddenly widened in hope, his discomfort forgotten utterly. "You've seen Frodo and Sam?"

Faramir nodded.

"Where? When?" Gandalf asked desperately.

"In Ithilien. Not two days ago."

I frowned to myself. Ithilien…. Why would they pass through Ithilien?

"Gandalf, they're taking the road to the Morgul Vale."

Gandalf's eyes widened, and he stared down at me.

"Surely, they cannot," I whispered.

"What does that mean? What's wrong?" Pippin asked, his voice laced with worry.

Gandalf ignored him. "Faramir, tell me everything. Tell me all you know."

* * *

It was not long before Faramir had related all his news to Gandalf. It was truly a relief to know that Frodo and Sam were still alive. The hope was still alive. They had not abandoned their task.

But I did not stay long. I soon left to help accompany the injured to the healing house, trying to do the little that I could do to help. I did not stay long in the houses either; healing was not my skill; that had been the skill of my sister. Instead I retired to the walls. I wanted to think.

I wondered how Legolas was. He was alive, I was sure of that. I could feel him with me. But I still missed him. More than I thought I would. I felt alone here. I had Mithrandir and I had Pippin. But I was alone in this city of men, who did not listen to me or even look at me without just a hint of curious wariness, a hint I caught every time. Even now, the guards on the wall on either side of me, gave me unsure looks.

And all the while, another thought played on my mind. That my life would end among these people who barely knew me, in a city that I did not belong in-

"My lady?"

I turned my head as a voice interrupted my thoughts. I was surprised by the man it belonged to.

Faramir approached and stood beside me, gazing out at the lost Osgiliath.

"Captain Faramir," I replied politely. "Have your wounds been seen to?"

"Yes, but I am lucky that they were so few," Faramir nodded. "Many of my men were not so well."

"It is the heavy price we pay for war," I said softly. "Heavier when it was a war we do not ask for."

Faramir glanced at me, seeming surprised at the depth of my words, but then not so surprised as he regarded me. And what I was.

"May I ask you a question, my lady?" he suddenly asked me.

I nodded.

"Your name," Faramir said.

I raised my eyebrows slightly at him.

"I have not had the pleasure of knowing you before," he explained. "Nor has Mithrandir introduced you even now."

I smiled softly at him. "My name is Arnuríel. I come from Lothlorien, the golden wood across to the West."

"Arnuríel?" Faramir frowned. "I know that name. You are the daughter of the queen of that place?"

"I am," I nodded with a slightly brighter smile, wondering what he had heard of my mother.

"And why are you here, my lady, if I may ask?" Faramir asked. His tone was not rude, simply curious.

"It was I who escorted the nine companions of the ring from Rivendell, the home of my part-brother to my own home," I explained. "From there, I later followed them to Rohan with my own forces to fight at Helm's Deep and as such as I came with Mithrandir from Rohan. I am needed here more than I was there."

"The nine companions?" Faramir frowned. "So you knew Boromir of Gondor?"

I gave a sad smile. "I knew your brother. I was sorry to learn of his passing. I cannot say he was overly fond of me but… he was a good man. And a loyal one."

"I always believed there was nothing my elder brother could withstand, he was the strongest man I knew," Faramir sighed. "I looked up to him like no other. But he was not strong enough to withstand the ring. The Halflings told me how mad it drove him…"

"There is more than one kind of strength in this world," I said softly. "And few of us are brave enough to have both. In strength of body, Boromir had few equals. But the ring does not fight by sword nor bow. It fights with the mind. And that is a strength far harder to come by. There was no shame in your brother's death. And neither Frodo or Sam were there at the true end. Once Frodo and the ring had departed, Boromir regained his mind, and he had it until the end. He stood alone against a score of orcs at least, to protect two hobbits, one of whom stands within these city walls as we speak, and even with three arrows piercing him, he brought his enemies down until his own end. Love and remember your brother, and be proud of him; that is all you can do and all you should do."

Faramir stood quietly for a moment, regarding me. "For one so young, you are… impressively wise."

I smiled faintly. "And how young do you think I truly am?"

Faramir frowned. "Well… Perhaps a thousand-"

This time I laughed. I did not mean for it to be mocking or scathing. "I'm sorry, I do not mean to mock you."

"Too old?" Faramir appeared concerned.

"On the contrary, not old enough," I replied ruefully. "I am past four thousand."

Faramir appeared utterly taken aback.

"The endless life of an elf," I said.

"It is known yet so hard to believe when one who seems so young stands before you," Faramir explained.

I nodded. "Understandably."

Faramir regarded me for a little moment longer, before he sighed. "I must go. My father requests words with me, though what they can be, I cannot think."

I nodded again. "Until later, Captain."

"My lady," Faramir bowed, and he left me to my thoughts once again upon the parapet in the sun.


	7. All Shall Fade

_Home is behind, the world ahead,_

_And there are many paths to tread,_

_Through shadow, to the edge of night_

_The stars are all alight, and shadow cloud and shade,_

_All shall fade, all shall fade_

- 'All Shall Fade', Billy Boyd

* * *

11 March 3019

The next day, I set out from my chambers early, leaving a sleeping Pippin and a quiet Gandalf for the empty parapets of the city. Only the guards were present and they were few and far between. For now, I was as alone as I could be. I drew my cloak around me in the chilly morning air. The date was the eleventh of Gwaeron. A date my mother had insistently pressed into my mind before I left her. "_Meet with me on the eleventh day of the gwaeron cycle."_

And so I had found a quiet place where she and I could speak as she had so asked. This form of communication just she and I used was one we had only made a few times. It drained both her strength and mine. I took long steadying breaths, slowing my breathing. I placed my hands comfortably upon the white bricks of the parapet, pressing firmly down to keep myself supported and locking my arms.

I closed my eyes. "Naneth…" _Mother…_

And there she was.

Though they were closed, it was as though my eyes were open. I could still see the pelennor fields before me, though they were paler, softer. Beside me my mother stood, her image as pale and soft as the landscape below. I knew she was not truly by me. I knew she was in Lorien where she belonged. But for a brief moment, I did not feel so alone.

"Arnuríel, iel nîn_._"_Arnuríel, m__y daughter. _"How are you?"

I smiled. "Well enough. I have come to Gondor as we agreed. Theoden no longer listens to me, there was no more I could have done for Rohan. Though Denethor has less time for suggestion that Theoden."

"Denethor's mind is lost but his authority does not hold as well as Theoden's," Galadriel told me. "In Gondor you can help."

"And I will," I nodded. "When the time comes."

"It will," my mother nodded.

I swallowed. "Sut naa ada?" _How is father?_

"Well. Preparing for war."

I blanched in shock. "War?!"

"Khamûl is posing an imminent attack upon the outer rim. Our scouts spotted them approaching early yesterday and we have been preparing. They will not breach, do not fear. Rivornor has taken up a new captainship upon his return, he has the rim will defended."

I swallowed nervously. I now felt a desperation to be home more than ever; to be defending my home with my family. Even just to be sure they were all coming home safe. My mother sensed my feelings.

"We all think of you here, you are not forgotten," she told me. "We are all proud to think of what you are doing. You are representing your people and we all want you to come home safe. We all wish to see you back in Lorien where you belong."

I nodded slowly. I knew she was trying to cheer me up. It made me feel like an elfling again, she had not sounded like this since I had been a child. It wasn't really working; I felt a little better until it reminded me of the task between now and going home. The task I didn't truly believe I'd survive. She was giving me a hope of a coming home I didn't think I'd see. But I chose not to tell my mother this.

"I must see to the defences," Galadriel suddenly said. "You know the words that will save the city when it comes to it?"

I nodded. "I know them."

"When the time is right, call me. I will be waiting. We shall give Gondor the last defence it can have."

I nodded. "As you wish."

Galadriel regarded me for a moment softly. Sadly. "Quel esta, iel nîn. Llya mela lle. Quel martha." _Rest well, my daughter. We love you. Good luck._

"A amin mela lle. Namarie, nanethamin_._"_ And I love you. Farewell, my mother._

"Namarie." _Farewell_.

* * *

"They are riding out," a voice suddenly cried. "Captain Faramir is riding for Osgiliath!"

I frowned as I turned from the parapet to listen. My eyes had flown open, the scene losing its pale haze, coming sharply back to my eyes. My mother was no longer with me, and I was alone again.

I refocused upon the shout. Faramir riding out… That made no sense. Surely the caller was mistaken. Faramir had barely returned from Osgiliath with little more than his life and a handful of men, to return was sure death.

I began to run. The shout I had heard had been faint, it was due to my elven ears that I had picked it up at all. It was coming from the main road that ran though the city and as I approached I began to hit crowds. The people were gathering, and over their heads I could see why.

The caller was right. Gondorian armies had donned their silver steel, mounted their horses and were riding solemnly down the hill for the main great gate. I suddenly saw a man in white flash past beside me and without thinking I was on the move. I pressed through the crowds easily, the people allowing me through, and soon I had caught up with Gandalf.

"Mithrandir, they can't go out there!" I gasped. "They were almost slaughtered before; even with their armour and horses, they are still heavily outnumbered and the orcs now hold the better ground! It'll be a massacre!"

"Faramir is insistent," Gandalf growled, striding through the streets.

I hurried after him. "Is he mad?!"  
"No, but his father is," Gandalf replied. "And it his father who has driven him into it."

"Does Denethor have no sense?" I murmured, almost to myself. "He was always stubborn in his own way but… to send his only son to his death through pure pride?"

"Denethor is not as he once was," Gandalf agreed. "But Faramir is resolute, he must be stopped if we can."

I nodded. "Go!"

Gandalf pushed forward, and I followed, and we soon found the heard of the column. "Faramir!" Gandalf called out. "Faramir!"

We were on the street beside his horse now, my feet almost dancing down the street as I avoided the flowers thrown in respect upon the ground.

"Your father's will has turned to madness," Gandalf said desperately. "Do not throw you rlife away so rashly."

"Where does my allegiance lie if not here?" Faramir replied quietly, not looking down at us. "This is the city of the men of Númenor. I will gladly give my life to defend her beauty, her memory, her wisdom."

I swallowed. I hardly felt I could protest when I knew I would gave the same for my own home. "Faramir, your honour is unquestionable but you can do more alive than you can dead. There is still a hope to save Middle Earth but retaking Osgiliath is not the step to take. Osgiliath will only be retaken when Middle Earth is re-won!"

"Your words are wise, Lady of Lorien," Faramir nodded. "But my mind is made; I bid you well."

He rode his horse away and Gandalf made a last effort. "Your father loves you Faramir! He will remember it, before the end…"

Faramir did not turn back.

"Do you believe this, Mithrandir?" I asked quietly.

"If he does not, then Denethor has turned far colder than I ever believed possible," Gandalf replied. "He will be poisoned beyond repair."

I sighed.

"Let us go up to the wall," Gandalf advised. "You may tell me what you see from there."

It was a swift climb to the parapet, and we were not alone in our ascent of the steps to watch what happened. The force rode in one long single line; I bit my lip. From here you could see how few they really were, how small the hope really was.

"Arnuríel, what do your elf eyes see at Osgiliath?!"

I swallowed and looked ahead to the great city. "The city is overrun with orcs…"

Faramir's forces were closing in.

"They have bows," I whispered. "They have bows."

Faintly on the wind, I heard the order to fire.

"Lau!" I murmured. _No!_


	8. Into The Abyss

_I've been busy_

_Chasing shadows_

_Watch me walk away_

_And you're burning little holes_

_In what's left of my soul_

_And we're never getting home_

- 'Burning Little Holes', Portia Conn

* * *

13 March 3019

The orc shafts rained down upon the small Minas Tirith force like a hail storm; each arrow that struck brought down the rider it hit. It was a pitiful sight to see. The Gondorians rode with such pride towards such a doomed fate. Had I not been the experienced warrior that I was, the scene would have been unwatchful to my eyes and I would have turned away, I did not doubt. I knew my sister would have done, and there were women along the wall now who I could see shielding their eyes, sobbing into their aprons. It was a massacre that we were watching.

And then I saw something behind Osgiliath that turned my blood cold in a single instant.

"Mithrandir," I whispered, the name a mere breath on my lips it was so soft.

Gandalf glanced at me and followed my eyes beyond the ruins of Osgiliath. The attention of all had been drawn so closely to the slaughter of Faramir's small army that all had missed what approached from behind it.

An orc army.

The greatest army of which I had never seen; the numbers were twice, even three times that of the uruk hai that had marched upon Helms Deep. Among the marching creatures, they hauled behind them siege towers. And great trolls, pulling catapaults.

"And so it has come," Gandalf muttered.

I swallowed and looked back to Osigiliath, my eyes widening. All that remained of the Gondorian force were bodies littering the ground, of man and horse alike. One lone stallion now galloped for home, dragging the broken body of a man behind him, the soldier's foot still caught in his stirrup. By some miracle…

"Mithrandir, it is Faramir!" I suddenly called. I turned back towards the main gate. "It is your Captain, open the gates!"

"Arnuriel," Gandalf ask me hastily, "is he alive?"

I stared down at the approaching horse, but Faramir was being dragged on his stallion's opposite side to me and I could not see properly. "I do not know."

There were shouts below us now. "Open the gate, quick!"

I watched as Faramir's stallion was led inside, and the Gondorian captain's foot released from his stirrup. Whether he was alive or not, I still could not tell; there were too many people milling about. A stretcher was brought forward and Faramir laid upon it before he was borne away up to the higher levels of the city.

I swallowed as I turned back to the sight facing the city. The army was almost at the walls now, an army to rival any I had ever seen. Trolls beating out a march. Cranking their catapaults back in prepartion.

I did not have long to prepare.

"Alrohar, tula amin!" I called. _Alrohar, come to me!_

* * *

My stallion heard my call and within minutes had cantered up onto the wall to my side. I vaulted smoothly onto his back and nudged him forwards. He cantered back down the steps and raced his way up through the city to my chambers. It took only a few moments for me to change. I strapped my silver breast plate to my front, lacing it to the back plate down my sides, before strapping my quiver to the back plate. I secured my armour arm protectors on and laced my boots tighter, before slipping my bow to my back and taking up my sabers and securing one through my back belts.

I was as ready for this war as I was ever going to be.

I returned to Alrohar who was waiting, dancing impatiently outside my chambers. He gave a whinney as I approached and I went to his head.

"Esta, mellonamin, uuma dela," I whispered. "Amin sinome. Amin sinta thaliolle. Lye nuquernuva sen e dagor." _Rest, my friend, don't worry. I am here. I know your strength. We will defeat them in battle._

Alrohar snorted lovingly in my hand, before he raised his head and stared out at the scene with dark eyes, ears twitching.

"Tula, Alrohar," I said, vaulting onto his broad back_. Come Alrohar. _

Alrohar did not waste time, instead he sprung away, leaning back on his haunches and launching forwards into a strong canter. The city was full of screams, women and children running to hide, soldiers coming in streams down the streets to the walls, some retreating, some running forwards.

"Arnuríel!"

Shadowfax suddenly appeared at Alrohar's shoulder and took the lead, and Alrohar instinctively followed the king of his kind towards the walls.

"Mithrandir, mani marte?" I called to Gandalf over the noise. _Mithrandir, what happened?_

"Faramir is alive!" Gandalf replied. "Denethor has truly descended into madness but there is a war to be fought, and the Gondorians will do it! We must lead them now!"

"Manke naa Peregrin?" I asked. _Where is Peregrin?_

"He was with Faramir! Tula!" _Come!_

I nodded and pushed after him up onto the wall.

The scene was no different, and yet it was, if possible, worse. I did not know nor understand how but it struck deeper fear into my heart. And where was Theoden? I could not see any of Rohan's banners nor forces in the chaos below.

"Ar' manke naa Theoden…" I whispered. _And where is Thoeden…_

Gandalf glanced at me and looked worried but did not reply. Not to me. Instead he called to the sentries around us. "Send these foul beasts into the Abyss!"

There was no sudden start to this battle, not as there had been at Helm's Deep. Heads were already rolling in Minas Tirith and the Gondorians were releasing their own catapults in retatlation even as Gandalf spoke. We had walked straight into the middle of a battle. And so I turned to what I did best. I fell into the battle with all the strength I could muster. I pulled my bow from my back and used every bow in my quiver, using each to the maximum that I could. I aimed for the catapults and the siege towers, firing every trick shot I knew. But I knew this war would need a lot more tricks if we were going to be victorious a second time. I had one trick still hidden up my sleeve, but I had to wait until the last possible moment. The time was not right yet. And I dreaded the moment it would be upon me.

And then I heard the ear piercing shrieks. Nazguls. The creatures were descending upon the city like great bats, black and terrifying, their leathery wings outstretched as they reached out with razor claws. Aiming my bow for the skies I took aim, and waited. Waited.

And fired. The arrow caught the Nazgul in the centre of one great wing, and embedded itself in the muscle. I allowed myself the grimmest of smiles as the Nazgul circled away with a scream, one wing hanging awkwardly as it attempted to fly.

"Hold them back, do not give into fear!" I heard Gandalf shout suddenly. "Stand to your posts! Fight!"

I turned back to the wall, and, forgetting everything, leapt up upon the stone parapet. The siege towers were almost upon us and I had just a few arrows left. I had to use them wisely. I refused to allow myself to hope for them to come; one to one battle was my preferred fight but it would mean to much death for me to allow myself to hope for it.

Instead, I took up careful aim. Arrows were flying past me, I noticed, to hit the towers themselves.

"Û!" I called out to those around me, before realizing my mistake. _No!_ "No, the trolls! Do not aim for the towers, target the force behind them!" As I spoke, I released the arrow I held tensed in my fingertips.

I was lucky. I had taken a tricky target; the nearest creature's eye. I was not the best archer, and eyes were something I had never been skilled at. But this time I made a hit. The troll reared back in pain, staggering back and away from the tower and I took the opportunity to send a second arrow, with all the force I could pull from the bowstring, straight through its chest.

Further down the wall I could hear Gandalf's shouts of similar commands. "Not at the towers! Aim for the trolls, kill the trolls! Bring them down!"

But along to my left, it was too late.

The tower reached the wall and the orcs came flooding forth from its core, with no mercy in the ugly swing of their blades. Far below, I could see the orcs reaching the main gate. If they breached the gate, we were truly in trouble.

But I had issues nearer to hand. The orcs were well and truly upon us and I set my jaw.

"My lady, come down from the wall, you shall be slain!" a voice shouted at me, a Gondorian guard from by my feet.

I shook my head resolutely at him, as I stored my bow at my back and pulled my long twin blades from their own bindings. "No. I am where I belong in this hour of need."


	9. Out Of Death

_Out of death, life, out of night, day_

_Glory from sorrow_

_Out of grief, joy, out of storm_

_Comes strength for tomorrow_

_Out of dust, gold, out of fire, air_

_Comfort forsaken_

_Out of rage, calm, out of loss, find_

_Glory awaken_

- 'Wonder', Laura Michelle Kelly

* * *

14 March 3019

Night had fallen.

The men about me were tiring, I knew but they fought on around me fiercely. Fighting for their lives.

I heard the shuddering boom, clearly, even though I could not see it. They were attempting to break down the main gate now. But up here, there was nothing I could do.

No. That was not true. There was something I could do but the time yet was not right.

There were only a few orcs left on the parapet, we had somehow managed to keep them at bay. I swung one blade about my head as the other came up to thrust itself through the orc's jaw, before I span to bring my first blade slicing across the throat of the orc approaching behind me. I was panting a little as I wiped the blood from the blade across the back of a fallen orc at my feet.

Gandalf. Where was Gandalf.

There was suddenly another shuddering boom. I leant over the parapet and my eyes widened in horror.

They weren't just using any battering ram. It was a great contraption, the head created into that of a wolf, fire dancing from between its jaws.

"Alrohar!" I shouted.

I did not know where the stallion had disappeared to, but he was at my side within moments. I leapt to him, and placed my hand in horror over a slash at his shoulder. Alro nosed my arm comfortingly. "Aiya, Alrohar, amin hiraetha!" _Oh, Alrohar, I am sorry!_

But Alrohar seemed unperturbed by his injury and nudged me again, encouraging me to mount. I swallowed and vaulted upon him. "Noro lim, Alro, i'ando!" _Ride on, Alro, the gate!_

Alrohar wasted no time; he sprung away, cantering with all speed down through to the lower levels of the city.

I suddenly heard Gandalf's voice. "Steady, steady!"

"Asca, Alrohar!" I urged and the stallion through in another spurt, leaping over an overturned cart and then I saw the white grey rump of a familiar looking stallion. "Shadowfax… Mithrandir!"

Gandalf turned around to me. "Arnuríel, are you well?"

Alrohar drew up beside Shadowfax as I nodded. "We have stopped the siege towers for the moment, but it won't hold for long!"

"Neither will this gate," Gandalf replied as another earth-shattering boom rang through our ears. And with an almighty, splintering crash, that caused my head to whip around and my hair to fly, the wolf's fiery jaws broke through the gate. My eyes widened as Alrohar danced on his hooves, throwing in a tiny rear of distress. I patted his neck reassuringly. "Dina, mellonamin…" _Be silent, my friend…_

"Arnuríel, go back to the upper levels. Once they are in, we must keep them contained in the levels below us. You are the best swordsman in this city, and you have the sharpest senses! There may still be orcs in the upper city form the siege towers. Ride back up and flush out the last few that you can find."

I nodded. The idea made sense. "Alright. Hold them back as best you can."

"We will try," Gandalf agreed.

I swallowed. "Quel marth, mellonamin." _Good luck, my friend._

"Arwenamin!" Gandalf nodded. _My lady!_

I had a feeling that this moment this would be the last I had with Gandalf. But I had no wish to tell him so, nor was this the time.

Instead, I nudged Alrohar with my heels and turned him back up through the city. Behind me, I heard Gandalf's shout of enocouragement. "You are soldiers of Gondor. No matter what comes through that gate you will stand your ground!"

I had a new task to undertake.

* * *

As I slid my blade from the last orc, I turned to look over Pelennor fields.

Minas Tirith was crumbling. I couldn't think what else to do. The catapaults were raining stone upon the city, the orcs pouring in through the main gates, Gondorians rushing to try and stop them but failing. There was nothing left.

No…

No there was one last thing. It would not stop the orcs entering through the main gate. But it would stop the city from physically falling. And as long as the city stood, there was still a chance. A hope for the future.

I turned to my brave stallion, and took Alrohar's great noble head on my hands to press my forehead against his. "Alrohar, mellonamin," I whispered. "Lle ume quel, amin diola lle. Nan amin caela anna thand sii', ereb. Amin mela lle. Aa' menle nauva calen ar' ta hwesta e' ale'quenle. Tenna' ento lye omenta, voronwer. Namaarie." _Alrohar, my friend. You did well, I thank you. But I have to give a shield now, alone._ _I love you. May thy paths be green and the breeze on thy back, loyal one. Until we next meet. Farewell._

The stallion gave the softest of nickers before he raised his hand from my hands and nipped gently at my hair. I laughed sadly. "Auta sii'." _Go now._

Alrohar paused before stepping forwards and stretching his head over my shoulder and pressing his muzzle into the small of my back. I could not help the tears pricking my eyes nor resist stretching my arms up and about his neck. He was one of my best friends, he knew better than almost anybody and I could barely think of letting him go, nor leaving him to go on without me. But I had to.

I stepped back, and planted one last gentle kiss on his muzzle. Alrohar blinked his great brown eyes before leaning back on his haunches and spinning to canter back down the steps and away. I did not want him to be here when it happened.

As soon as the last hairs of the dark grey tail whipped from sight, I blinked back my tears and turned for the parapet and looked out.

Dawn was just rising. I could hear a sound like very faint hoof beats but I saw nothing. Nothing but war and ugliness. Minas Tirith was falling, crumbling beneath the barrage of the orc forces.

But I had one last gift to give.

Swallowing, I placed my hands upon the parapet, feeling the cold stone beneath my fingers, sensing the crumbling of the city in my fingertips. I closed my eyes.

"Naneth," I whispered softly. _Mother._

Just as I had when I had spoken to her just days before, I felt my mother's presence. I could not see her this time, but I could feel her there as I heard my own name whispered in the air. "Arnuríel! It is time."

I nodded and drew a great breath, before I began the words, my mother's voice speaking in time with mine, she lending me her strength, and the power of Nenya. Softly at first, a faint song of sorrow but as the meaning of the words filled me with a new hope, my voice grew stronger, until I was shouting my song for all to here. Showing them that Minas Tirith was still protected, if only for a while longer.

"Ettula e-gwanu, coia, ettula e-du, aur

Aglar tula hiraeth

Ettula e-nyeer, alasse', ettula e-hurro

Tula thaliolle an tul're

Ettula e-ast, glawar, ettula e-naur, vilya

Laucamiluiel awarth

Ettula e-aha, sérëdhiel, ettulla e-wannath, hirae,

Alkar culva..."

_Out of death, life, out of night, day_

_Glory from sorrow_

_Out of grief, joy, out of storm_

_Comes strength for tomorrow_

_Out of dust, gold, out of fire, air_

_Comfort forsaken_

_Out of rage, calm, out of loss, find_

_Glory awaken_

As the awakening died on my lips, my eyes flickered open and remained flickering. I was so tired… It was like all the strength had been drained from my body.

No… all the strength had been drained from my body. My head almost nodded downwards, as though my neck were struggling to hold it up. My hands were outlined against the white stone by the palest blue light. No, not outlined. All the stone was blue. Slowly, oh so slowly, I turned my head to gaze up at the great city behind me. Every white stone was glowing with the same light. A white blue haze that seemed that shimmer across the whole city, spreading from my fingertips. I recognized the light. It was the same light I would often look up to in the night sky; the light of Elendil.

Suddenly, a great chunk of rock flew over my head and, my eyelids still flickering, I watched it crash into the upper levels of the city above my head. No. It didn't crash. It hit the city, and almost bounced off, leaving not even the lightest dent in the white stone.

Together we had created a shield, unbreakable by the orc forces. My strength, my mother's strength, the power of Nenya, and the light and love of Elendil.

My strength.

My strength was spent. It was taking all I had to remain standing, as I turned to look back out to Pelennor fields. And then I felt a sudden numbing through my chest, across my front, spreading from above my faintly beating heart. It was not a pain as such, though I felt like it should be.

I slowly looked down, something in my mind vaguely curious as to was causing the feeling.

I took a sudden sharp intake of breath, or as sharp as I could, as my eyes followed the long spear from its end to the point, though the point was hidden. Embedded in my chest, just above the metal breastplate. Red stains were spreading quickly across the blue fabric, disappearing under my breast plate, and down my sleeves. Beginning to trickle down my bare arm.

I wasn't strong enough to even feel the pain. I could feel myself slipping away, my legs starting to shake from holding myself up.

There was suddenly one thought left in my mind as the strength in my legs broke and I fell to my knees, before I felt cold stone against my back and my head hit something hard. One thought before I saw the sky once more and my eyelids flickered a last time. One thought turned to a whisper.

"Legolas… amin mela lle." _Legolas… I love you._

* * *

**Aah! Finally reached the penultimate finale that, I swear, I have been building up to ever since I began this flipping trilogy!**

**As you clever people have probably noticed, the elvish spell is not mine (wish it was!). It is taken from the song 'Wonder' which is sung by Galadriel in 'Lord of the Rings, the Musical'. It was my choice to translate it into elvish, however, so I do apologise for all the mistakes in my translation if you spot them (let me know and I'll try and change it!); I eventually ran out of patience and resources so I gave up and have used a mish mash of different elvish sites and translations and all sorts.**

**But there we are! Ríel has willingly given her life to Minas Tirith. Poor brave gal… :3**

**Xxx**


	10. Healing Houses, Healing Hearts

_When the cold of winter comes_

_Starless night will cover day_

_In the veiling of the sun_

_We will walk in bitter rain_

_But in dreams_

_I can hear your name_

_And in dreams_

_We will meet again_

- 'In Dreams', Edward Ross

* * *

16 March 3019

I was aware of the world before I opened my eyes…

I was laying down, a feather soft mattress beneath me, another sheet laying across me. Someone had removed my armour.

There was a strange silence in the air. I was not alone. But whoever else was around me was making no sound, but for light breathing, and the ruffling sound of a gown moving across the floor.

There was a numb spot in my chest, somewhere about my heart; it did not quite hurt, but I was finding breathing harder. Like it was an effort to take a breath.

It felt like there was something missing from my hand. As though someone had been holding it but now they were gone.

I swallowed and drew a deeper breath. I felt like I was in a safe place. The air tasted clean, the silence was peaceful. But what was this safe place, why was I here…

Memories were beginning to filter slowly back. Gondor. A war. The orcs coming down upon us like a pestilence. Mithrandir holding up the main gate, while I left…

No. Why would I leave… I was a warrior, that was not my nature.

No, wait. I did not leave the battle… I remembered the wall… My mother's words inside my head, linked with mine… Ettula e-gwanu, coia, ettula e-du, aur… And the spear.

Suddenly, everything flooded back in a rush, all the little missing pieces linking together, and my eyes flew open.

There was an intricately carved celing above my head, and I recognized the woodwork. I was still in Minas Tirith. SO the city had survived.

That pure single piece of knowledge alone was enough to relieve me of all the tension and concern I had been feeling at once.

I turned my head and, with aching difficulty, pushed myself up on my elbows.

I was in the Houses of the Healing. I was in a small room alone, in a neat little bed made up with soft white linen. There was an open stone archway in one room, leading elsewhere.

Slowly, allowing myself time, I pushed away the covers and swung myself out of bed. Rising on slightly unsteady feet, one hand held against my bandaged wound, I stepped carefully to the window.

I was not only out of my armour, but indeed all my battle clothes had disappeared. Instead I was wearing a cream nightshift with a wide neckline. I felt like a lady for the first time since leaving Lothlorien. I was clean, my long hair loose down my back, my cuts and scars healing up.

Out the window, I could see first the gardens of the Healing Houses, and then beyond that, the city itself. Healing just as I was.

The people had already begun to repair their lives it seemed. Walls were being rebuilt, men limping through the streets, trying to help where they physically could.

"Sut an ?" I wondered. "Mani naa sina re…" _How long… What is today…_

"I beg your pardon, my lady?" a voice asked and I turned suddenly.

A healer stood in the doorway, a tray in her hands, watching me with curious eyes.

"I am sorry," I apologized. "How long is it since the war was won?"

"T'was only yesterday, my lady," the healer replied, laying her tray down upon a nearby table.

My eyes widened in surprise. Only a day? It felt like weeks…

"You were found early last night. A stallion led our healers to your unconscious form-"

"A stallion?" I interrupted. "I'm sorry, but what stallion?"

"A clever horse, pewter grey with black hair," the healer nodded.

Tears pricked my eyes as I almost laughed in joy. Alrohar…

"We brought you here, though we did not believe you would survive your injury," the healer went on. "You lost a great deal of blood, and all your strength seemed spent, you were so frail. But a few had hope and clearly you came through."

"A few who?" I asked.

"The lord Aragorn came to your side after you were brought in," the healer replied, pondering the question. "And lord Eomer, and the dwarf, Geemli?"

"Gimli," I whispered in correction. They were all still alive. And if Eomer was here… did that mean Theoden had come?

"But he who has spent most of the night by your side, was one of your own kin."

I took a sharp intake of breath, and hand flew to my heart. "Another elf?"

A ghost of a smile flittered across the healer's face. "Legolas, he told me his name was."

The sigh of relief that escaped my lips was the strongest I had ever given for fear of Legolas' life. He survived. And he was here.

"It was he who told us who you are," the healer explained. "We owe you a great deal, Lady Arnuríel."

I shook my head. "You owe me nothing."

"The prince said you would say that," the healer smiled.

I gave a faint laugh. "Of course he did. Where is now?"

"He left just a half hour ago to speak to the lord Aragorn."

I nodded. "Thank you. For everything. May I take a walk in the gardens?"  
The healer frowned for a moment, before approaching and gently unwrapping the bandage. I raised my left arm to help her.

"What is your name?" I asked suddenly.

The healer glanced up at me and smiled. "Ioreth, my lady."

I nodded, as Ioreth look back down to gently examine my wound. She had cleaned and stitched it while I slept, and while it was still not a pretty sight, it was healing. Medicine had been my sister's skill, rather than mine, but I knew a little and I could see it was better.

"Yes, you may, but not for too long, you still need rest," Ioreth decided. "You are still weak."

I nodded. "Thank you."

* * *

The gardens were peaceful, and empty of any others. I stepped to the edge of the garden, where I could look out across the city.

The only emotion I could feel was relief at this moment. All the pain, the weakness, the tiredness was forgotten, as relief utterly washed over me. They had all survived. Aragorn, Gimli, Eomer, even Alrohar. And most importantly Legolas. I knew he could survive the war, but the question for me had been whether he would. I had not believed I would survive, I had just been praying Legolas would not join me in death. Though, I suddenly realized, he had not known about my plans… I wondered what his reaction would have been to my death… I wondered, but actually I did not want to know. I just wanted to see him again. To truly know he was safe.

And then a part of me remembered that they had not all survived, not necessarily. I wondered if the others had also survived. Gandalf, the hobbits, Thoden, if he came… And what of Faramir? Suddenly my relief was replaced with worried curiosity. It would be too good to be true if all had survived and yet I prayed for nothing less.

"Arnuríel?"

I froze. I knew that voice. Oh, I knew that voice better than my own.

I slowly turned my head, almost dreading to see him in case he was not perfectly as I remembered, and yet every fibre of my body longing to see him.

My eyes fell upon him standing in the archway to the gardens, staring at me with glistening wide eyes. He still wore his armour, his hair slightly disheveled. But he was perfectly as I remembered him.

I almost fell towards him, though within the time it took me to take one tired step forwards, he had crossed the garden and I found myself enveloped in his arms, pressing my face into the warm familiar curve where his neck met his shoulder. He pressed kisses against my hair as he held me, before he pulled away to look me over, as he always did, smoothing my hair away from my face and wiping a tear from my cheek.

"I returned to your room, you weren't though, I was so worried," he said, all in a rush, but I ignored him.

"You're alive," I whispered desperately, my hands at his cheeks as though I didn't really believe it to be true. In truth, maybe I didn't… I had believed I would die, and a part of me believed Gondor would die to, and everyone else with it. But quite the opposite had happened, it was almost like a dream. "You're alive, you're here…!"

"And you," Legolas breathed, pressing another feather light kiss to my forehead. "Damn Elendil, Arnuríel, why did you do it? When I found out, when I was told what you'd done…?!" He didn't sound angry… just desperately glad.

"I'm sorry," I told him. "I could not tell you-"

"You knew?" Legolas asked, his eyes hurt. "Back in Rohan, you knew?"

I swallowed. "I have known since I left Lothlorien. I truly am sorry but… I could not bear to tell you. To say goodbye to you for the last time would have been torture enough, and you would have tried to stop me. I had to. What is my life compared to the future of Gondor, I had to give it if there was a hope of saving the city."

"Maybe nothing to others, but to me?" Legolas asked. "You are worth Gondor a thousand times over."

I smiled lovingly through my tears. "I know. But this war is… was far greater than you and I."

Legolas swallowed through his own tears and I wiped them away softly. "Why are you always right?"

"Not always," I laughed softly. "But on this occasion, perhaps!"

Legolas laughed with me, and gently leant down to press a last kiss against my lips. "Amin mela lle…" _I love you…_

"A amin mela lle…" I whispered, leaning my forehead against his. _And I love you…_

We stood for a while, utterly content in each other's silent company, before I broke the peace. I did not want to but there were questions that needed answers, and as much as I wished, I knew we could not remain as such for eternity.

"Did everyone survive?" I asked, looking up into his trusting blue eyes.

"Everyone?" Legolas questioned.

"Ioreth told me Aragorn made it, and Gimli and Eomer," I explained. "But I know not who else survived."

"Gandalf is here, unsurprisingly perhaps," Legolas replied, with a vague smile. "And Merry and Pippin, both being considered heroes for their actions. Eowyn also survived but-"

"Wait, Eowyn?" I asked suddenly, frowning. "Eowyn was here?"

Legolas nodded. "She followed the Rohirrim in disguise. But she was wounded. Badly. It was she who brought down the Witch King of Angmar."

I stared at him. "The Witch King?"

"She was brave indeed to stand up to him," Legolas agreed.

"And Faramir?" I asked.

"He survived also, though it was close," Legolas frowned. "Pippin saved his life. But Denethor's was lost in the saving of Faramir."

I sighed. "May he rest peacefully."

"Eowyn and Faramir both rest here with the House of Healing, with you," Legolas continued. Faramir is healing well, Eowyn a little slower. But there was one more death."

I cocked my head at him. "Who?"

"Theoden," Legolas said sadly.

A numbness hit me suddenly. "Theoden?"

"Crushed by Snowmane on the Pelennor fields, when the Witch King's nazgul threw them," he explained.

I was suddenly finding it even harder to breathe, and my hand came to rest upon my heart again. "I cannot believe it…"

"I did not think you would be this sorry," Legolas seemed a little surprised.

"We never saw quite eye to eye but… we had the same morals, the same hopes. Just different ways of looking at them. And what was important, was he was a good king; kind, loyal and fair. And I respected that."

Legolas sighed and pressed another kiss to my forehead. I looked up at him, and he gave the lightest of encouraging smile. "Come. We are due in the king's chambers. If you feel strong enough, that is."

I nodded. Just to be asleep for a day made me feel left out and uncomfortable. "I am strong enough."  
"Are you sure?"

"Legolas," I smiled softly, and stroked his cheek. "I am fine. Really."

"Alright," Legolas nodded. "Aragorn and Gimli will be pleased to see you, I know."

I laughed. "But why are we going there?"

Legolas swallowed, his expression becoming serious. "There is to be a council of war. A last debate."

* * *

**TA DA! SHE SURVIVED! Hehe, probably not much of a surprise, but there we are :)**

**xxx**


	11. Stay With Me

_I can't decide if it's a choice_

_Getting swept away_

_I hear the sound of my own voice_

_Asking you to stay_

_And all we are is skin and bone trained to get along_

_Forever going with the flow but you're friction_

_This slope is treacherous_

_This path is reckless_

_This slope is Treacherous_

_And I like it_

- 'Treacherous', Taylor Swift

* * *

16 March 3019

The way to the king's court room was long, I was still too weak and tired to move quickly but Legolas, ever patient, kept one reassuring hand to my waist, and the other held my hand, helping my the whole way.

As we entered the great chamber, it struck me how… much more peaceful it seemed there. I could not help the soft smile that passed across my face.

"How do you feel?" Legolas whispered, as we crossed toward the gathered group.

I placed a comforting hand to his cheek. "I am fine, meleth, do not worry." _I am fine, my love, do not worry._

"Arnuríel!"

I looked around, as Aragorn strode over and embraced me fondly. I hugged him back with a firmer smile.

"Estel, you look well," I greeted.

"Thank you, Ríel, for everything," Aragorn said quietly as we joined the group.

"Don't," I replied softly with another smile, placing a hand on his arm.

"Ríel!" Gimli roared from the throne. "You look surprisingly well considering ya had a spear through ya chest!" He gave a deep hearty laugh, and a little wink.

I gave a weak laugh. "Thank you Gimli!"

"While we are all deeply grateful to the Lady Arnuríel for what she sacrificed for this city," Gandalf said suddenly and seriously, "and thankful that she survived at all-"

"A pure miracle," Legolas murmured with a fond squeeze of my side.

Gandalf nodded. "But we have more important things to discuss here. Frodo has passed beyond my sight. The darkness is deepening."

"If Sauron had the ring, we would know it," Aragorn told him.

"It's only a matter of time," Gandalf replied. "He has suffered a defeat, yes, but behind the walls of Mordor our enemy is regrouping."

"Let him stay there," Gimli growled. "Let him rot! Why should we care?"

"Because 10,000 orcs now stand between Frodo and Mount Doom," Gandalf retorted sharply. "I've sent him to his death…"

"Mithrandir…" I murmured softly. It was not Gandalf's fault in the slightest.

"No, there is still hope for Frodo," Aragorn agreed. "He needs time and safe passage across the plains of Gorgoroth. We can give him that."

"How?" Gimli asked.

"Draw out Sauron's armies," Aragorn explained. "Empty his lands. Then we gather our full strength and march on the Black Gate."

Gimli promptly choked on his pipe, while Eomer shook his head. "We cannot achieve victory through strength of arms."

"Not for ourselves," Aragorn told him. "But we can give Frodo his chance if we keep Sauron's eye fixed upon us. Keep him blind to all else that moves."

"A diversion," Legolas added.

"Certainty of death…" Gimli mused. "Small chance of success… What are we waiting for?"

But Gandalf shook his head. "Sauron will suspect a trap. He will not take the bait."

A gleaming small smile crossed Aragorn's features and I cocked my head slightly. "Oh I think, he will."

* * *

"Did you truly believe I would allow you to come?" Legolas' serious question was laced with bemused smiles.

We had retired to his chamber, and he had insisted I rest at the window seat while he prepared himself for battle. I had curled up in the seat sadly. He had expressly forbidden me to come with them to the Black Gates.

"No, I guess not," I replied softly, wrapping the blanket closer. "But I hoped."

"Arnuríel," Legolas said, coming over to me, and sitting opposite me. "I have never kept you from a fight. I know how strong a warrior you are, and you know how deeply I respect you. And in that strength, you know the realistic prospects behind a battle. You took a spear to the chest as well as sacrificing all your strength to this city. If you go to the Black Gate, I have too great a fear you will not return and I will not see that happen."

"But-" I began to protest but Legolas softly placed a finger to my lips as he stood up to pick up his knives.

"No," he replied. "Do not ask me to watch you die out there, I refuse to do it-"

"Legolas," I said seriously, standing and crossing to where he stood. I pulled his cloak a little tighter and refastened it. "You remember the battle at Helm's Deep? I came there not only so that Rohan would not fall, but because I could not bear to leave you to fight alone. I know that my going to the Black Gate would most likely be my end. But I believed my end would be yesterday. I'm having time with you I never thought I'd get. And now to see you march off to a final war, where the prospect of success for Gondor is small? I can't bear to think of watching you march while I have to remain here waiting for news of your return."

Legolas swallowed, before he leant down and kissed me gently. "I understand. But-"

"I will not come," I assured him. "As you wish, I will stay here, and I will wait. Just try to come home to me, please."

Legolas took my hands from his throat and held them clasped tightly within his, leaning his forehead against mine. "My love, I will always come home to you, I promise you that."

I nodded, not wholly convinced but he and I both new that that was impossible; he was going to war. There was never a certainty of survival in war. But, as Legolas pulled me close and held me tightly, tears pricked my eyes and I knew I had never felt so desperate for that certainty.

I truly never had felt so left behind, as I stood at my window of the Healing House. Faramir and Eowyn stood in the gardens below my window, Eowyn's head leaning against Faramir's chest. There was still some love in the world...

Ioreth had refused to allow me to go down with the rest of the Gondorians to see off Aragorn and his last forces, so I had said my farewells to Aragorn, to Gimli, to Eomer… to Gandalf, the hobbits. To Legolas.

And now I felt truly abandoned. I rarely watched forces go to war, without being among them or at their head. I was left behind by my friends, and I was left behind by Legolas. At the head of the column, I suddenly saw him, so far away, turn his head back to look at me. I gave him the softest smile and the lightest nod, and whispered. I knew he would not here me but he knew it anyway. "Amin mela lle." _I love you._

Elendil, bring him home…


End file.
